Welcome to the Lucky Leprechaun Hop hosted by Bookhounds.Be sure to scroll down and check out the linky on the bottom to follow the hop to win other great prizes!

For my prize for The Lucky Leprechaun Giveaway - I am giving away two YA books. Everything Grows by AimeeHerman and Confessions of a Teenage Leper by Ashley Little.**ATTENTION: Please be sure to read our giveaway policy before you enter my giveaway or any of the following giveaways. When you enter our giveaways keep in mind they are US only giveaways sponsored by us**

Jordan O’Neill isn’t a fan of labels, considering he has a few. Gay, geek, a librarian, socially awkward, a nervous rambler, an introvert, an outsider. The last thing he needs is one more. But he when he realises adding the label ‘asexual’ might explain a lot, it turns his world upside down.
Hennessy Lang moved to Surry Hills after splitting with his boyfriend. His being asexual had seen the end of a lot of his romances, but he’s determined to stay true to himself. Leaving his North Shore support group behind, he starts his own in Surry Hills, where he meets first-time-attendee Jordan.
A little bewildered and scared, but completely adorable, Hennessy is struck by this guy who’s trying to find where he belongs. Maybe Hennessy can convince Jordan that his world hasn’t been turned upside down at all, but maybe it’s now—for the first time in his life—the right way up.

Context: Jordan is attending his first asexual support meeting, along with his best friend Merry, where Jordan finds the guy from his bus, whom he’s admired from afar and dubbed ‘Headphones Guy’ (Hennessy) is running the meetings.Jordan

I didn’t even notice that the room had cleared out. Merry had pulled up a chair at my side, but Hennessy sat with his knees between mine, holding my hand while I cried. I fucking cried.

Through my stupid, traitorous tears, I caught the end of a silent conversation between Merry and him, my Headphones Guy.Hennessy.

And then Merry rubbed my back before she walked out, and Hennessy squeezed my hand. “She’s just gone to get you a drink of water,” he said gently.

“Because it can be overwhelming,” he said. His voice was calm and soft. “Because it can be life-affirming and scary as hell, all at the same time.”

I nodded. “I don’t want another label, you know? Because I have enough. I have more than enough. Too many, probably, you know for a geeky book-nerd gay man with so many levels of social awkwardness Freud would need an elevator, but the labels fit. And I hate that they fit. Everything that was said here tonight was like it was said for me like I was saying those things. I didn’t want this to happen,” I said, shaking my head, fighting more tears. “I wanted to come here and, well, that’s not exactly true. I didn’t want to come here at all; it was Merry’s idea. She suggested that I look into what being asexual meant. After my 683rd failed attempt at a relationship, she thought maybe I should see if I ticked any boxes on the ‘How To See If You Could Be Asexual’ questionnaire on Teen Vogue, and after I realized that I could almost tick all the boxes, I decided I didn’t want or need another label. So then I had to come here tonight to shut her up. I was going to prove her wrong and then I could go on living my best life being not asexual but just a gay man who didn’t actually want to have sex. A socially awkward, geeky book-nerd gay man,” I amended through more tears, “who doesn’t actually want to have sex. I’m sorry for crying. I wasn’t expecting the emotional dump, but I wasn’t expecting to feel so… lost and found. Like I once was lost but now I’m found, kind of like the song, which is cheesy as fuck and I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I just didn’t realize how hard I’d been trying to fit in with the real world, trying to be normal, when my normal was here all along. Because I really am asexual and it hit me like a metric fuckton of bricks that there’s actually nothing wrong with me.”

And then there were more tears.

“Because that’s my truth, even if I thought there was something wrong with me, and fuck knows I’ve been told there was, many times,” I said, wiping my face. “But there’s not. I’m asexual, and that’s my motherfucking truth whether I like it or not.”

Hennessy smiled at me. With his perfect lips and perfect teeth, his pretty blue eyes, and three-day scruff. He looked so different without his headphones, like seeing someone who normally wears glasses without them. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, still smiling, still holding my hand.

“I’m sorry, were you not here for the geeky book-nerd gay man with so many levels of social awkwardness Freud would need an elevator conversation?”

He laughed at that. “I believe I was, yeah.”

“Sorry about that. I tend to babble a lot when I’m nervous. And swear. Well, I say fuck a lot even when I’m not nervous. I don’t have Tourette’s or anything, I just like the word fuck. The noun and adverb, even the adjective, not the verb obviously because I’m asexual. Apparently. So there is definitely no actioning of the word.”Hennessy chuckled. “No actioning of the word, got it.” He still had a hold of my hand, and I liked it. As in, really liked it. My Headphones Guy was holding my hand, and he was smiling at me, in what I think was not in a bad way. I mean, his smile was kind and his eyes were smiling too, if that was even possible. I mean, no it wasn’t possible—eyes could not physically smile, I got that—but damn, they sure looked happy.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked.

“A little weirded out,” I answered. “Not gonna lie. I didn’t want to admit the asexual thing to myself for a long time, and I’m thinking it will take some getting used to. Like breaking in a pair of Doc Martens, ya know? Like they’re uncomfortable and tight and basically kill your feet until they’re the most comfortable shoes you’ll ever wear. They become like a second skin, and I’m pretty sure this whole asexual thing will be like that.”

He made a thoughtful face. “I like that analogy.”

“And it’s even weirder because you’re my Headphones Guy and I had no idea you’d be here, but here you are and now you’re holding my hand and I cried in front of you, which is not how I wanted our first meeting to go. Believe me. I had visions of it involving me not being so… well, so me. And doing all the talking, because I tend to talk a lot when I’m nervous, which I think I’ve said already—”

“I’m your Headphones Guy?”

Oh, fucking fuckity motherfucker. “I said that out loud, didn’t I? To your perfect face, and what kind of perfect name is Hennessy, by the way? Because—”

A loud peal of laughter broke through the door when a couple, a guy and girl, stumbled into the back room, their arms around each other, obviously intoxicated and handsy and half kissing, half laughing, until they realized the room wasn’t empty.

I shot to my feet and pulled my hand away from Hennessy’s.

“Oh, sorry guys,” the girl said.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” the guy said. He took his hand off her arse to wave it. “Keep doing what you’re doing. We don’t mind. We thought this room was empty.”

“We weren’t doing anything,” I said quickly.

“Excuse me,” Merry said, sliding in around the drunk couple. She held three bottles of water. “Sorry, it took forever to get served. They’re really busy.”

I’d never been happier to see her. “Oh, thank God.” I grabbed her arm and turned her back toward the door. “We need to leave. I called him my Headphones Guy to his perfect fucking face.”

Merry shot Hennessy a look and held out a bottle of water for him. He took it, still smiling, though somewhat confused. Then Merry looked up at me as I dragged her to the door. “To his face?”

“What was I supposed to do? You left me unsupervised!” I stopped at the couple who were still standing in the doorway, and only just then I realized what the guy had meant when he said they thought the room was empty… “Oh praise baby motherfucking Jesus, I hope you have antibacterial wipes.”

Now Merry was hauling me out through the crowded pub. I yelled back at the couple, hoping they’d hear, “At least wipe it down afterward, we have meetings in there!”

We burst through the crowd onto the street and Merry looked up at me and sighed. “What else did you say?”

“What didn’t I say?” I answered. “I was a mess, crying all over him because of the whole asexual thing, thank you very much. Then I was nervous and we both know how well that ends. And I think I might have told him that he was my Headphones Guy, that he had a perfect face and a perfect name, because who the fuck calls their kid Hennessy, and now he thinks I’m a raving lunatic because of you.

Left. Me. Un. Supervised.”

Merry cracked her bottle of water, took a long drink, sighed, then hooked her arm around my elbow. “He really is very good looking,” she said as we began the walk back to my flat. “I can see why you’ve been crushing on him forever.”

I took a swig of my water. “Fucking hell, I wish this was wine. Where is Jesus when you need him?”

Author Bio

N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance.
She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way.
She is many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words.
She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love.
She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.
She’s been writing ever since…

Julian swore he would always love her. He said he would never leave her. He’s about to break that promise. If only she would listen. If only she would trust him. But how much crap can one man take? It’s time to move on.
Ivy wants Julian more than anything, but she’s won’t trust anyone with her secrets. Now it’s too late. He doesn’t want her, but she needs him more than ever. If only she could make him understand. If only she had told him sooner how she felt, but that train has left the station and her life is going to hell. She should have told him she loved him when she had the chance.

I'm a stay at home mom that loves to read. Some of my favorite titles are Pride and Prejudice, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Horatio Hornblower. I started writing when I was trying to come up with suggestions on ways I could help bring in some extra money. I came up with the idea that I could donate plasma because you could earn an extra $500/month. My husband responded with, "No. Find something else. Write a blog. Write a book." I didn't think I had anything to share on blog that a thousand other mothers hadn't already thought of. I decided to take his challenge seriously and sat down to write my first book, Jack. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed writing. From there, the stories continued to flow and I haven't been able to stop. I hope my readers enjoy my books as much as I enjoy writing them. Between reading, writing, and taking care of three small kids, my days are quite full.

Lawyer Juliet Jackson has come head to head with Sergeant Jesse Burns on numerous occasions in court. He is provoking. Pigheaded. Punch-worthy. They don’t get along. Not one little bit. The unfortunate fact he’s also her next-door neighbor brings her loathing off the charts. But when Juliet’s caught locked outside her home in nothing but a skimpy towel, she must swallow her pride and turn to Jesse for help. She doesn’t expect the explosive chemistry between them and can’t help but wonder if Jesse’s as demanding in the bedroom as he is in the courtroom.

His handsome face smirked before he averted his eyes and turned his head, but she could still see the profile of his face. His police uniform stretched across his chest. Wonder if that chest is chiseled underneath all those clothes.
Her ears burned hotter than chili sauce, spreading to her neck and chest. No point in putting on a mask this time, because there was no escaping this. Her fingers found the ends of the towel to cover her naked body, but her legs froze on the spot. “I got locked out of my house.”
“You got locked out of your house…naked?” A grin spread across his face, revealing the dimple on the bottom lip. She wanted to bite it but didn’t know if it was to hurt him or because of the temperature between her legs.
Scowling at his sarcasm, her fingers gripped the bricks of her house and she pulled herself up. “Yes. Why are you even here? Didn’t you have enough of me this morning?
“Never enough.”

Author Bio

Liv Arnold has worked as a copywriter for several global companies and now runs her own freelance business. She grew up in Melbourne, Australia, and lives with her husband and their spoiled dog, who only eats freshly cooked meals. When she's not writing, Liv's avoiding the gym, devouring a cheese platter, or marathoning way too much TV. And of course, she's a massive book addict and often reads until all hours of the night.

I was so excited to be able to read the first book in a new series by Gayle Leeson. Designs on Murder is part of the Ghostly Fashionista Mystery Series. If the series is going to be anything like this first book, you are going to fall in love with it. Amanda has opened up her new fashion studio in historic Abingdon, Virginia. The shop she leases comes with one of the most loveable characters, Max. She just so happens to be a ghost and becomes Amanda’s best friend. Gayle brought all these characters to life for me very well. I love a book that makes me feel like I am watching everything that is happening. I cannot wait to read the next book in this delightful series, and yes, I would highly recommend this series to everyone who enjoys this genre. I want to thank Gayle, the publisher, and NetGalley for an advanced copy of this book. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

A corrupt corporation. Ruthless assassins. Will the family that runs together… die together?

Zach Monaghan just became a target. Under witness protection from his father’s whistleblowing, his reckless desire to win back a normal life compels him to run away. But escaping his new identity won’t last long if two contract killers catch up to him…

Richard “Birdman” Byrd has worked hand-in-hand with his tormentor Gorski for years. Siphoning away money and sending assassins to hunt down the Monaghans could be his only way out of the crooked partnership. But if Birdman doesn’t watch himself, the verbal abuse he’s received for years could turn deadly.

As the ruthless killer draws closer to Zach, surviving the greedy corporate plot may force the whole family to get their hands bloody…

The Runaway is a fast-paced thriller with dizzying twists and turns. If you like non-stop action, high-stakes tension, and large casts of compelling characters, then you’ll love Peter Thompson’s gripping novel.

Buy The Runaway to join a thrilling race against time today!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Peter Thompson grew up on the east side of Chicago, in the shadow of the steel mills where the air was sooty and smelled of sulfur. His life wasn't always so gritty, but the grit and realism find its way into his thrillers. He has always loved stories of every kind, and one of his joys is finding a way to get inside character's heads, seeing the world as they see it and feeling their triumphs, pain, and fear. He visualizes his characters when he writes, and they are larger than life in the big screen of his imagination.

Before pursuing his passion and becoming a full-time author, he tried his hand at everything from factory work, breaking cement in a construction crew, running his own pizza shop, and he was a well-regarded presence in the mortgage industry for nearly thirty years. When he isn't writing, Peter loves, spicy food, live music, and exciting and thought-provoking books and movies. He is a fitness buff who loves to spend time with his grown sons and is looking forward to traveling the world and seeking adventures with his lovely partner.

To get in touch, find out more about future projects, please stop by authorpeterthompson.com. Sign up for his reading list to find out about new releases and receive free perks.

***Real emotion. Real life. Real love. This is NOT a glossy love story. But if you’re looking for a romance read that will rattle you… characters that will change you… and love that will last in your mind long after you’re finished… THIS IS THE ONE FOR YOU.***
—
Kris fell, head over heels over hormones, for the damaged b*tch who became his power-woman sex-goddess wife.
All Nicole wants is to be a better mother, and a wife more worthy of the husband she loves with every fibre of her body, but she is constantly yanked away by her job and her overbearing boss Darren Hart.
But Darren has marital problems of his own – and, when he confides in her, Nicole realises just how easily a happy marriage can crumble.
…Can she keep her own from doing the same?
Told from both points of view, “Climbing The Walls” explores the fibres that hold a marriage together – love, trust, forgiveness… and of course, the earth-shattering sex that will not be denied.

“STOP!” The vehemence of my own words jars me, and she pulls back abruptly, jaw ajar and eyes exhibiting awe.

I wriggle out from under her until I’m standing on two shaky feet on the carpeted floor beside my marital bed. “I can’t—I can’t do this. I won’t.”

Author Bio

Sacha T. Y. Fortuné hails from the twin islands of Trinidad and Tobago in the Caribbean, and she considers herself a “citizen of the world” [Read her “30 Day Truth Challenge” here – go to Day 16].
Her passion for writing began in her early childhood, when she channeled her active imagination into writing short stories, poems and full-length novels for her friends.
The winner of several writing awards during her childhood, she became the President of the Writers’ Guild at Lancaster University in Lancaster, UK, where she contributed some poems and short stories to Lancaster University’s Writers’ Guild Anthologies during 2005-2007.
With her BA in Media & Cultural Studies under her belt, she went on to complete her MA in International Journalism at the University of Westminster in London, UK.

Pillar Beccon travels across Andor to discover her mother's mysterious past. But danger is never far away as a demon seeks to destroy her. An orphaned null without a hint of magic, Pillar can't remember ever belonging anywhere, especially not in the Freemage commune where she grew up. After she graduates from high school, she jumps at the chance to learn why her mother ran away from her family. During an accidental encounter, Grylerrque, a surviving commander from The Demon Wars, recognizes what Pillar is and decides to feed the girl's life force to her clutch. The demon sends her minions to capture the girl. Pillar escapes with a help of an unexpected allay, only to learn she was pulled out of the frying pan and thrown into the fire.

Pillar Beccon stood before the open doors of the Taddledon bus station, steeling her nerves. She was alone with no one at her back, not even her running buds from school. Though, now that "Te Tres Amigas" had graduated, she'd have to get used to being alone again. Pillar's jaw clenched as she braced herself against the coming stares.
The teen didn’t mind the double takes as she walked along a
street. They seldom pierced the walls she’d built around herself. Inside the Taddledon Station, she’d be the pale-skinned, weird-eared weirdo caught in a sea of tan people sneaking glances at her angular, mismatched face, wispy blond hair, and super tall height. People always gawked at her. She felt lucky when they didn’t drool when their
mouths hung open. Pillar begged the Powers for strength, not that they ever helped nulls or mages.
Get a grip. At least they won’t tease you like the kids at school. They
don't know you're a nothing null. Pillar refused to admit she was neither human nor mage, fsh nor fowl. Besides, odds are the people waiting're only human and aren't aware.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. When she scanned
the station, nothing around her felt threatening. You're over-reacting.
You're safe. Pillar sighed with relief. I didn’t let Delia down. I made the
test trip on my own. No glitches.

The teen had survived the day trip to the Taddledon museum
and gardens in spite of her foster mother's worries. Pillar didn't need
babysitting by the Freemage commune that had taken her in when
her mother died. Not that her mother was a born member. Mages
thought the mountain communes the only safe place for their young
since their teens made the perfect prey for demon-kind—if her yapping trainers weren't just blowing hot air. She stood taller, and her
shoulders relaxed.
Satisfaction ﬂooded through her. I made it.
The bumblebee drone of the milling travelers bounced oﬀ the
high ceilings and washed over her. Here and there, children’s shrieks
drew scowls as they spiked above the noise. All seemed to ignore
the announcement that a bus had just arrived at the platforms. The
prickles grew sharper, and she paused.
After a glance around the lobby, Pillar guessed most were locals
returning to their surrounding small towns after shopping trips to
the big city. Te few roamers, marked by their grubby clothes and
backpacks, might be mages or might not be. Communes and towns
tended to throw out their misfits after they graduated from high
school if they didn't get admitted to colleges or tech schools.
A man near the outside door sat, slumped back on a bench and
eyes closed, with his hands resting on his ample belly. He opened one
eye and jerked. His gaze darted away from Pillar’s icy, challenging
stare, made all the colder by her pale blue eyes. A ﬂush rushed over
his face as he ducked his head.
It’s not like I’m a total freak. All mages have long faces.
Pillar hunched her shoulders again but decided not to get pissed
oﬀ or feel sorry for herself. Both reactions were a waste of energy. Pillar ignored thousands of memories of being told nobody wanted a
null, not even the Kingscourt, unless the null was brilliant enough
to become a useful functionary. Nulls were kicked out of mage communes to fend for themselves in the slums of the cities.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A Northern California gal, M. K. Theodoratus has been intrigued by fantasy since she discovered comic books and the land of Oz. Some of her early favorites were A. Merritt, Andre Norton, Catherine L. Moore, and Fritz Lieber.

She has traveled through many fantasy worlds since then. Now she enjoys reading Lee Child, Patricia Briggs, Sharyn McCrumb, Neil Gaiman, and Carol O'Connell among others.

When she's not disappearing into other writer's worlds, she's creating her own alternative worlds -- that of Andor where demons prey and that of the Far Isle Half-Elven where she explores the social and political implications of genetic drift on a hybrid elf/human people. Magic and mayhem are her favorite topics.